Hi, Readers!
Writer's block is something serious this time around, so I've decided to (obviously) take a writing hiatus and refocus my energy. This upcoming fall I'll be transferring to Rutgers for the remainder of my college experience and starting my Africana Studies minor (yay!). During this time I want to catch up on my reading, specifically by writers of color and even more specifically women. I'm looking for more material to write about. Lately I've been so inspired by these Black women I've stumbled upon, and I am in such awe when I read their work. Right now I'm trying to get my hands on Toni Morrison's new novel, God Help the Child. She's one of my favorite writers, and I've heard this one is really good. I also plan on rereading Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston. I was only a junior in high school when I first read it, so I think I'll appreciate more now.
A good writer is an avid reader! Find a good book and try to read a couple of pages a night.
--Jay
Thursday, May 28, 2015
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Unrequited
Under a lone streetlight
I stood as rain drenched my entire body
my hands outstretched with my heart in them
tears falling relentlessly
as you walked ahead of me
your arm draped around her neck
a kiss placed against her forehead
All I ever wanted was to love.
I stood as rain drenched my entire body
my hands outstretched with my heart in them
tears falling relentlessly
as you walked ahead of me
your arm draped around her neck
a kiss placed against her forehead
All I ever wanted was to love.
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Yes, I want to be a writer; why is that a problem?
Hi, Readers,
I know I've been slacking; these last few weeks of the semester are crunch time, so I'm focused on getting these grades right and start my new journey at Rutgers University next fall (yay!). In the last few weeks, more than usual I've been asked what it is exactly I want to do with my life. My answer is usually, "I'm only a sophomore. I have enough time to figure all of that out." That's the safe answer. What I really want to say is: I'm working towards being a really famous writer someday. I don't say it often because I get weird looks and the "Oh, well you know they don't make a lot of money." *Rolls eyes* Or they'll ask about my major and say (very condescendingly), "Oh, you want to be a teacher? They don't make a lot of money. Being a teacher is not easy." *Rolls eyes again*
I always knew I didn't want some boring desk job answering phones, staring at a computer all day, going to boring meetings. I wanted to do something that I had complete control over. With the help of my 10th grade English teacher, I realized that one, I was pretty damn good at writing poetry, and two, that this was something I could do. How I was going to get to that point was a different story, but that was what I was focused on. Every year since then my writing has improved drastically. I get better and better every time I write a new piece. I read other poets' beautifully written work, and I think, Jada, this could be you someday.
Being an artist is not easy, whether it's a writer, an actor, a painter, etc. I'm very well aware of that. But why would I not do something I love for the rest of my life? You hear about these CEOs who leave their jobs, making crazy money, to go live a simpler life? Because they're happier that way. To some people, money is everything. They want to live that lavish lifestyle. I'm not into that. As long as I have enough for food and a roof over my head, why am I complaining? God always makes a way.
So please, do not talk to me about doing something else or finding something else. I will not listen to you, you will be wasting your time, and it's only going to piss me off and prove you wrong even more. Either be on my side and help me on my journey or get out of my way and watch me succeed. People are going to know my name. They are going to read my books in school, for leisure. I'm going to touch people with my words.
Why can't you see that it is a beautiful thing to be able to create images and stories with words? It's amazing. I feel sorry for you for looking down on people who can do that.
Don't let people tell you that you shouldn't do something because it doesn't seem practical. Do it anyway to prove to them that you could but also more so for yourself, that you can do it.
XOXO,
Jay
I know I've been slacking; these last few weeks of the semester are crunch time, so I'm focused on getting these grades right and start my new journey at Rutgers University next fall (yay!). In the last few weeks, more than usual I've been asked what it is exactly I want to do with my life. My answer is usually, "I'm only a sophomore. I have enough time to figure all of that out." That's the safe answer. What I really want to say is: I'm working towards being a really famous writer someday. I don't say it often because I get weird looks and the "Oh, well you know they don't make a lot of money." *Rolls eyes* Or they'll ask about my major and say (very condescendingly), "Oh, you want to be a teacher? They don't make a lot of money. Being a teacher is not easy." *Rolls eyes again*
I always knew I didn't want some boring desk job answering phones, staring at a computer all day, going to boring meetings. I wanted to do something that I had complete control over. With the help of my 10th grade English teacher, I realized that one, I was pretty damn good at writing poetry, and two, that this was something I could do. How I was going to get to that point was a different story, but that was what I was focused on. Every year since then my writing has improved drastically. I get better and better every time I write a new piece. I read other poets' beautifully written work, and I think, Jada, this could be you someday.
Being an artist is not easy, whether it's a writer, an actor, a painter, etc. I'm very well aware of that. But why would I not do something I love for the rest of my life? You hear about these CEOs who leave their jobs, making crazy money, to go live a simpler life? Because they're happier that way. To some people, money is everything. They want to live that lavish lifestyle. I'm not into that. As long as I have enough for food and a roof over my head, why am I complaining? God always makes a way.
So please, do not talk to me about doing something else or finding something else. I will not listen to you, you will be wasting your time, and it's only going to piss me off and prove you wrong even more. Either be on my side and help me on my journey or get out of my way and watch me succeed. People are going to know my name. They are going to read my books in school, for leisure. I'm going to touch people with my words.
Why can't you see that it is a beautiful thing to be able to create images and stories with words? It's amazing. I feel sorry for you for looking down on people who can do that.
Don't let people tell you that you shouldn't do something because it doesn't seem practical. Do it anyway to prove to them that you could but also more so for yourself, that you can do it.
XOXO,
Jay
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Flashback: Permanent Ink Pt. II
I was looking through my Google Docs for all my old poems and stumbled upon this. Isn't it amazing to find something years later? I thought, did I really write this?! Enjoy!
I never wanted to love in permanent ink because I knew that
one day it would be all I had left. But I didn’t want to forget those
moments for they were precious segments of time that needed
to be captured. In blue ink I inscribed just about every beautiful
episode for batum, so that I could replay them when the stars
were the only things that accompanied me. My blue ink continued to
scribe, even the nightmares. I couldn’t wake up from those terrors.
Even worse, they were now apart of me. Like a broken record,
they kept showing themselves behind my lids over and over again.
They wouldn’t wash away like ink on skin because they had replaced
each inch of my flesh. I was ready to play Russian Roulette.
All I had was one shot. And all of it would end. But the safety kicked in
when I pulled the trigger and my life flashed before my eyes. Staring at this
piece of steel, it transformed into the one who had bequeathed me the pen
in the first place. Never regret loving in permanent ink but I let it consume me
and take over me. I won’t be careless with this blue ink anymore.
Trading in such things for new ones will only be my ultimate downfall.
The ugly scars left behind are now simple remnants of my old self.
So I prance on Earth’s shoulders, scarred and all.
One day someone will see past my imperfections and I will too.
I never wanted to love in permanent ink because I knew that
one day it would be all I had left. But I didn’t want to forget those
moments for they were precious segments of time that needed
to be captured. In blue ink I inscribed just about every beautiful
episode for batum, so that I could replay them when the stars
were the only things that accompanied me. My blue ink continued to
scribe, even the nightmares. I couldn’t wake up from those terrors.
Even worse, they were now apart of me. Like a broken record,
they kept showing themselves behind my lids over and over again.
They wouldn’t wash away like ink on skin because they had replaced
each inch of my flesh. I was ready to play Russian Roulette.
All I had was one shot. And all of it would end. But the safety kicked in
when I pulled the trigger and my life flashed before my eyes. Staring at this
piece of steel, it transformed into the one who had bequeathed me the pen
in the first place. Never regret loving in permanent ink but I let it consume me
and take over me. I won’t be careless with this blue ink anymore.
Trading in such things for new ones will only be my ultimate downfall.
The ugly scars left behind are now simple remnants of my old self.
So I prance on Earth’s shoulders, scarred and all.
One day someone will see past my imperfections and I will too.
Friday, April 10, 2015
Wednesday, April 8, 2015
"And on this day, a blog was born."
Happy birthday to my blog!! This totally snuck up on me (thanks for the reminder Facebook!). I cannot believe a year ago today I created my blog. I've seen myself grow so much as a writer in this year. Thank you to those of you who take the time out and read my posts. I appreciate it so much. I haven't had much time to write like I want to, but I hope to get some more pieces done by the end of this week.
Here's to Year 2!
XOXO,
Jay
Here's to Year 2!
XOXO,
Jay
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Forget Me Not
This morning I stood by my window sill as the April
showers fell ever so lightly against the white panes, the
petrichor filling my lungs as I clipped away the stems
of forget-me-nots. I thought of giving instead the white
oleanders in milk--but I loved you too much to cause
that much pain. These blues will be my memory for you just
as these scars are your memory. Does your heart break when you
hear my name? All I ever wanted was to dance in your
arms way past midnight. I attach kisses and teardrops to
each petal along with the very lasts of you that live
in me. I wrap the flowers in the best ribbon of blue
and place them six feet above where you lie. Forgive me, love,
I know not what I do, love. I could not stop loving you.
showers fell ever so lightly against the white panes, the
petrichor filling my lungs as I clipped away the stems
of forget-me-nots. I thought of giving instead the white
oleanders in milk--but I loved you too much to cause
that much pain. These blues will be my memory for you just
as these scars are your memory. Does your heart break when you
hear my name? All I ever wanted was to dance in your
arms way past midnight. I attach kisses and teardrops to
each petal along with the very lasts of you that live
in me. I wrap the flowers in the best ribbon of blue
and place them six feet above where you lie. Forgive me, love,
I know not what I do, love. I could not stop loving you.
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